What's in a name? The delightful mystery that is celtuce

Vice Munchies just celebrated Chinese Food Week while we were in New York, which I call auspicious timing. 

Countless great articles make their appearance here, but I particularly liked Clarissa Wei’s editorial (read it and you’ll understand why!).

My own contributions included an article called "Dividing and Conquering the Cuisines of China" on why the concept of the “eight great cuisines” just doesn’t work.

You’ll also find a really delicious lettuce recipe from China's arid regions included here that comes straight out of All Under Heaven. Enjoy!

While we were in the Big Apple, we went out with Munchies senior editor Matt Zuras to a great Henan restaurant in the Elmhurst part of Queens. 

Called Uncle Zhou, we were really impressed by how well everything was prepared, from the Daokou chicken to the sweet-and-sour fish topped with intensely thin and crispy fried pulled noodles to the fennel boiled jiaozi. 

Why can't we have our own great Henan restaurant in the Bay Area, I ask you? Henan was home to the ancient capital of the Chinese empire a couple of thousand years ago. By any measure of history and common sense, this should be a go-to place for delicious food. And it is, if you know about it. 

Now I know what I want from Santa Claus this year...

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Celtuce, or stem lettuce, is a particularly Chinese vegetable, one of those strange ingredients that inhabits only one part of the world for some reason, but nevertheless is so delicious that you have to wonder why no one else has yet caught on to this delightful fact. The only problem with this vegetable – aside from its limited availability in Chinese markets – seems to be that no one ever knows what to call it, either in Chinese or in English.

Celtuce is a combination of CELery and letTUCE, which makes a bit of sense, I guess. In Chinese, the proper name is generally wōsŭn 萵筍, although some areas prefer to call it wōjù 萵苣.

The leaves do indeed look a bit like lettuce, and no one really eats them with any passion other than the Taiwanese, where they call the leafy bits literally "A vegetable" (A 菜, or A cài), and stir-fry them with lots of garlic and a dash of salt to create one of my personal favorite greens. 

Some folks say that the Taiwanese name A cài (a weird cross-pollination between English and Chinese) came about because the leaves were once used mainly as duck food, hence yācài 鴨菜 ("duck vegetable"), while other say that the name originally was wōzĭcài 窩仔菜, which more or less means “nest vegetable.” And as if that wasn’t confusing enough, I’ve seen this also referred to in English as the unhelpful “Chinese lettuce,” the odd “asparagus lettuce,” and the I-give-up “celery lettuce.”

Peel down to the jade center

But I stick with celtuce or stem lettuce, mainly these names make more sense. And this vegetable is, when you come right down to it, all about those luscious stalks (yup, in a perfect world this would be called stalk lettuce, since no stems are involved), which are phenomenally beautiful once they are peeled.

Cooks and diners love this oddly delicious vegetable mainly in Taiwan and Sichuan, which makes me think that celtuce probably was introduced to the island during the massive migrations surrounding 1949. In both places, celtuce winds up in stir-fries or blanched for quick pickles, and the flavor is both delicate and unique. It’s really hard to describe… sort of like a cross between romaine lettuce and broccoli stems and stringless celery. In short, it’s crisp and clean.

Summer is the best time to find celtuce in a Chinese market. Look for heavy stalks with their springy green leaves still attached, since they are telling you they are very fresh; older ones will have the wilted leaves trimmed off, and these can still be good, but you have to be a little more circumspect when you shop.

So, what do you look for? Try to locate stalks that are not too thick – just a little over an inch wide is ideal – and yet are the heaviest of the lot. The reason why you do this is that thicker stalks will often be hollow in the center from growing too big, and instead of pure green jade flesh there will be a pithy white gully running through the thickest part. Heavy means juicy, which means fresh, which means delicious. While you're at it, check the stalks over for gouges or other damage.

Chinese peeler

To prepare them, trim off the tops and bottoms. Those bottom ends can be rather obstinate at times, so use care when you lop them off. The skin there will often be really fibrous, too, and so you will have to use either a paring knife or a heavy-duty Chinese peeler (which has a handy knife edge), as shown on the right, to cut through the tough webbing.

As you peel off the skin, be sure to remove any of the white webbing you see, since all you want are the lovely emerald cores. And as you do this, you probably will find the stalk breaking of its own accord – that’s perfectly fine, since you will have to cut it up anyway later on. Do note that the celtuce will lose some of that intense green (okay, almost all of it) when it soaks in the pickling liquid, but will retain it during stir-fries.

This recipe is dead simple and a great introduction to the wonders of stem lettuce. If you find you love it, too, toss it into stir-fries, like the one here. Also, check out this blog post for the dried form, which is weirdly good in a totally different way.

Quick celtuce pickle

Pào wōsŭn 泡萵筍

Sichuan

Serves 6 to 8 as a side

Celtuce:

4 stalks celtuce (around 2 pounds or 900 g)

Water, as needed

Pickling liquid:

½ cup (120 ml) pale rice vinegar

½ cup (120 ml) water

¼ cup (50 g) sugar

1 teaspoon sea salt, or to taste

Garnish:

Chile oil

The gorgeous cores

1. Peel the stalks as directed above. Slice them into wedges of approximately the same width and length, as this will allow them all to cook to the same degree of doneness at the same time. (Most stalks can be quartered lengthwise, except for at the very top and bottom, so you can use that as your guide.) Place the celtuce in a medium saucepan, add about an inch (2 cm) water, cover the pot, place it on high heat, and quickly bring it to a full boil, tossing the vegetables often as the water heats up. As soon as the rawness is barely gone, the celtuce will still have a light crispness, sort of like barely cooked asparagus – don’t cook it beyond this point. Immediately pour out the water and rinse the celtuce under cool running water until it is at room temperature. Drain in a colander.

2. Make the pickling liquid by boiling together the vinegar, water, sugar, and salt. Once the sugar has dissolved, taste it and adjust the seasoning as desired. Cool the pickling liquid completely. Place the celtuce in a resealable container and pour the cooled liquid over the top, which should more or less submerge all of it. Refrigerate this for at least a few hours and preferably overnight.

3. Just before serving, arrange the drained celtuce on serving plates as desired and drizzle with chile oil. Serve chilled.

Comfort via Sichuan: pork & pickle soup

This is one of those dishes we would order at least once a month under a number of different incarnations when we lived in Taipei. It’s great as is or served over a bowl of noodles, where it makes the perfect complete meal. And if you would prefer this as a simple stir-fry, just blanch the pickles as directed in step 2, drain them thoroughly, and add the pickles to the wok in step 4. Simple and delicious!

The only real variable here is the saltiness of the pickle, so taste them and the broth after the zhacai has been blanched the first time.

Unlike so many of Sichuan’s street foods, this is not in the least spicy. In fact, it is downright mild. The main seasoning is the pickle, which (literally) tarts up the dish to such an extent that just about anything else would be superfluous, and so it is left with the starring role here.

What I’ve done instead of tossing in my usual handful of chilies is introduce more savory elements to the original recipe. Traditionally, pork shreds are simply added to the simmering pickles, and that’s it. It’s okay that way, but not stellar, because even if you use fatty pork instead of a lean cut, the fat ends up as cumbersome blobs that require serious chewing, and the broth never really coalesces into something truly flavorful.

Served with noodles & bok choy

So, I have substituted Chinese black mushrooms for half of the pork, and they provide a really lovely savory note, a richness that otherwise is missing. Then, because the meat is so lean, I stir-fry it in some oil that has been seasoned with a good helping of garlic and ginger. These, plus a nice glug of rice wine, give this soup its necessary oomph and transforms a ho-hum comfort dish into something stellar.

Shredded pork and pickle soup 
Zhàcài ròusī tāng  榨菜肉絲湯
Sichuan

Serves 2 as a main meal over noodles, 4 to 6 as a soup course

4 ounces lean pork

½ a piece of Sichuan pickle (zhacai; see Tips)

Filtered water

A large handful of fresh noodles, or 2 bundles cellophane noodles, optional

4 large Chinese black mushrooms, fresh (or plumped dried mushrooms)

3 tablespoons peanut or vegetable oil

2 or 3 cloves garlic, finely chopped

1½ tablespoons finely chopped fresh ginger

¼ cup rice wine

A large handful of cleaned and trimmed bok choy or other greens, optional

1 teaspoon toasted sesame oil

1 green onion, trimmed and cut diagonally into fine slices

1. Place the meat in the freezer for about an hour before you cut it so that it is easier to slice.

Pork, mushrooms & zhacai

2. Rinse the zhacai under cool running water, pat dry, and slice it into thin pieces about ⅛-inch thick. Then, cut these slices into thin julienne matchsticks; you should have about ½  cup. Place the pickles in a medium saucepan and cover with around 4 cups water; bring the water to a boil, simmer for about 10 minutes, and then taste both the broth and the pickles. If either is too salty, discard half of the water and add 2 cups more water to the pan; bring the broth to a boil again and then slowly simmer the pickles while you prepare the rest of the ingredients. (If you are serving this over noodles, you may add them to the broth, but pour in more boiling filtered water as needed so that you end up with around 4 cups liquid.)

3. Slice the meat very thinly against the grain and remove any fat or gristly pieces before cutting the slices into a thin julienne. Remove and discard the mushroom stems; slice the caps horizontally in half and then crosswise into thin julienne.

4. Heat the oil in a wok over medium-high until it shimmers and then toss in the garlic and ginger. Fry these for about 10 seconds to release their fragrance before adding the pork and mushrooms. Stir-fry these together until the meat starts to brown. Scrape the pork mixture into the broth, add the rice wine, and bring the soup to a boil. (If you are serving this over noodles and want some more veggies in the mix, add the bok choy to the broth now.) Lower the heat and simmer the soup for around 5 minutes, taste and adjust seasoning, and then sprinkle on the sesame oil and green onions. Serve very hot.

Tips

Two whole pickles

Sichuan pickles used to only be available in cans, but more and more Chinese markets are now offering them either in shrink-wrapped bags or loose in a pickle jar or already packaged and weighed.

The best pickles are whole and covered with a light chili paste that – oddly enough – never gets absorbed into the pickle, so I have no idea why anyone uses it, but it does look pretty.

Keep any unused whole or halved pickles wrapped airtight and refrigerated, where they will remain happily for a very long time.

These pickles are made out of the knobby stems of a type of mustard called Brassica juncea that is salted, the juices are squeezed out, and it is partially dried. It is then coated with ground chili powder and allowed to ferment. The Chinese name – zhacai – literally means "squeezed vegetable" because the juices are wrung out before it is pickled.

Really and truly amazing: traditional Sichuan pickles

I've talked a whole lot about pickles and fermented things on this blog, and as I have delved deeper into the traditional ways of making some of the best that China has to offer, I've discovered some truly delicious things along the way. One is naturally fermented pickles.

Even better, this recipe allows me to finally have the slightly tart and intensely flavored long beans that are featured in the next post. Yes, you can get them sometimes in Chinese markets, but they've invariably been around for a long time, they've been cooked to some extent so that they survive in a vacuum pack, and they have none of the appetizing green color or terrific crunch that I so love.

This is a recipe I have longed for ever since I first ate naturally fermented pickles in Taiwan. There's no vinegar here. Instead, an assortment of veggies is allowed to sit in a crock with nothing but a seasoned brine, and then nature does the rest. It's taken a while for me to work out the bugs and ensure perfection every time, but it's all been worth it.

Bundled fresh long beans

What are the best things about making your own pickled vegetables this way? Oh, let me count the ways.

First of all, if you get a really good crock with a moat around the top, the pickles will let out farts as they cure. I'm not kidding. The crock that is sitting on my kitchen counter cuts the cheese when I come downstairs to start the day, and then I inevitably begin to laugh, and that is a good way to greet the morning. It's a nice, muffled, wet sort of explosion, the kind that sounds like someone is sitting in a bath.

Second, there is no fermenting smell if you use the kind of crocks that the Chinese have for hundreds of years. These have a cup-shaped lid and a moat around the top that ingeniously lets the carbon dioxide out while acting as a barrier to outside air and insects and contamination. And that is why you have those farts.

Farting aside, these pickles are outstandingly good: crisp, crunchy, flavorful, and just bursting with the authentic taste of perfect fermentation.

My late mother-in-law used to make these back in Taiwan (she excelled at the salted and fermented stuff, while my gonggong made the daily meals), and so the sight of a crock full of food slaving away in the dark is one thing that makes my husband very happy, reminding him of his childhood days.

After 3 weeks in the pot

Vegetables that are slowly pickled this way by fermentation have incredible health benefits. They aid in digestion, and are especially recommended for people who are middle aged and older, as the stomach's hydrocloric acid diminishes over time, and that is why so many people eventually suffer from heartburn and indigestion (in addition to overeating and general dissipation at the dining table, of course...). 

Enjoy these pickles uncooked every day and see whether symptoms don't improve; they are healthier and definitely much tastier than antacid tablets. And there's something just terribly comforting about seeing a glazed pot on the counter filled with good things to eat, with its promise of excellent meals in the days ahead.

Traditional fermented Sichuan-style pickles 
Chuántóng Sìchuān pàocài 

傳統四川泡菜

Sichuan
Makes around 4 to 6 cups pickled vegetables, plus 1 bunch pickled long beans, but it all depends upon how much you put in the crock

Brine:

12 cups water

4 ounces sea salt

2 tablespoons Sichuan peppercorns

12 star anise

12 bay leaves

4 tablespoons white liquor (such as gaoliang, maotai, or 60 proof rice liquor, etc.)

Rock sugar to taste (start with about 4 tablespoons)

12 slices fresh ginger

12 garlic cloves, peeled and cut in half

4 fresh red jalapeno chilies or other fresh chilies to taste, cleaned and halved

Vegetables:

I whole head firm, sweet, round cabbage, plus any or all of the following:

1 Chinese or Korean radish, peeled and thinly sliced

2 or 3 carrots, peeled and cut thinly on the diagoal

1 bunch long beans, as tender and thin as possible, trimmed and kept whole

1 or 2 kohlrabi, peeled and thinly sliced

1. Boil the water and salt together to dissolve the salt. Let the salt water come to room temperature.

2. While the salt water is cooling, carefully scrub out a crock that holds at least 12 cups (see Tips) and its lid and rinse it thoroughly under running water. Rinse the crock and lid out with boiling water, turn them over on a clean towel, and let them dry. Then, pour the salt water into the crock, cover it and let the salt water sit in the crock by itself for a week; what you end up with is something the Chinese call “old salt water,” or lao yanshui 老鹽水, and it sets the stage for successful fermented pickles.

3. After a week, tie the Sichuan peppercorns in a very clean small cloth bag and add this the salt water. Then, add the star anise, bay leaves, white liquor, and sugar to the salt water along with the ginger, garlic, and chilies.

The real deal

4. Clean the vegetables you wish to use and pat them dry. Let them air dry for a couple hours, if possible, to keep any fresh water from entering the pickling crock. Cut off and reserve 2 large leaves from the outside of the cabbage. Cut the cabbage in half, core, and tear it into pieces about 2 inches square, more or less. Prepare the other vegetables as suggested in the ingredient list. If you are using long beans, use kitchen twine to tie them loosely together around the center into a bunch. Place all of the vegetables in an even layer in the crock.

5. Set the two large leaves of cabbage on top of the vegetables (these will help keep the weights from dropping down to the bottom). Then, carefully lower a very clean weight on top of the vegetables (see Tips). Cover the crock (see Tips), place it in a cool place, and let the vegetables settle for a couple of hours; check the crock, and if the salt water does not cover the vegetables by at least 1 inch, make up some more salt water using the same ratio as before, but remember that the pickles will sink considerably within a day or two. 

6. Check the crock the next day to ensure that no mold has formed; if there has, pour a couple more tablespoons of white liquor into the pickles, gently swish the crock around, and then cover it again. Do note that it is normal for there to be a thin white layer on top of the brine; this will more or less dissolve as the pickles continue to ferment. The pickles should be ready in anywhere from 2 weeks to a month (mine take exactly 3 weeks), depending upon the temperature, vegetables, etc. What to look for: the pickles should taste sour, rather than simply salty, and they should still be crisp and colorful.

7. Use very clean chopsticks or wear plastic disposable gloves to remove the pickles from the brine (see Tips), place them in a clean jar along with a few tablespoons of the brine, and refrigerate. You should then reuse the brine in the crock to pickle more vegetables, as the brine will improve in flavor over time. Add more salt water as needed, and if the flavor needs a little boost, add more spices, aromatics, sugar, white liquor, and so forth.

8. Serve as is, or you can drizzle something like toasted sesame oil or Citrus Chili Oil or whatever else suits your fancy. The flavors in the pickle are sharp, which is why a flavored oil goes so well here. These pickles are also incredibly good in a Sichuan stir-fry with little more than strips of beef as a contrast.

Tips

Set two leaves on top

The best sort of crock to use for these traditional pickles is made of thick ceramic and has a moat around the top (see photo at bottom). This is an ingenious device that allows carbon dioxide to escape as scentless farts while not letting any outside air into the jar, thus cutting down on contamination and foreign yeasts. Chinese pickle crocks are hard to find at the time of this writing, but oddly enough, Eastern Europe has crocks with very similar designs, and these are available in such online stores as Amazon.com.

I have a 10-liter crock, but use whatever fits your budget and appetite.

Store the crock in a  cool area, like a basement or far away from the kitchen stove, as the pickles need to ferment slowly in order to develop their flavor.

If you are using a crock with a moat, be sure to check the water level daily around the lid, adding more water as needed. 

A plain large glass crock can be used instead, as long as the lid does not have a plastic rim that seals the crock shut, as you want to allow the gases to escape and yet keep the bugs out. With crocks such as these, place a thin layer of cheesecloth over the top before covering with the lid. As with the ceramic crocks, clean and sterilize both the crock and the lid (as well as the cheesecloth) before using.

I use new disposable latex or plastic gloves when removing the weight and the vegetables, as this keeps everything super clean while giving me maximum flexibility while dealing with slippery heavy things.

A weight should be placed on top of the pickles to keep them submerged. Doughnut-shaped discs that are split in the middle (for easy insertion and removal) can be found online, but you can also go the more traditional route and place a very clean plate on top of the pickles and then balance a (very, very clean) rock wrapped securely in clean cheesecloth (to help with stabilization) on top of the plate; if you do that, get a rock that has a flat side so that it doesn't roll around and either break the crock or disappear into the pickles.

When you remove the finished pickles, shove the weight to one side or place it on a very clean towel. Then, when all the veggies have been removed, return the weight to the pot where it can remain submerged and ready for the next batch.

If you add more salt water to the crock, be sure that the water has been boiled first, as fresh water may cause mold.

Polish pickle crock

Use only firm vegetables that are not at all juicy in this pickle. That means things like cucumbers and tomatoes should never be added, as they will spoil.

Sichuan pickles like this recipe traditionally have fresh ginger, garlic, and chilies, as well as Sichuan peppercorns, but add whatever flavors you like.

Keep a clean pair of chopsticks tucked away for testing the pickles, and wrap them up so that they are used for nothing else; this will prevent oil and other contamination from entering the brine.

Long beans (jiangdou) that are pickled this way are used for a Sichuan dish called Pickled Long Beans with Ground Pork (see next blog entry for recipe); while you can sometimes purchase the pickled beans (pao jiangdou 泡豇豆) in some Chinese groceries, they are a pale shadow of homemade ones. When your homemade pickled beans are just the right level of tartness vs. crispness, place them in a clean resealable plastic bag, refrigerate, and use within a couple of days.